Though he’s never exactly shied away from emotional directness, it’s almost disarming to hear Billy Corgan—or William Patrick, as he bills himself here—sound as naked as he does on Ogilala. Produced by Rick Rubin (a studio guru with a reputation for stripping artists to their core), the album forgoes the fuzzy, hyper-layered sound of Smashing Pumpkins for Bowie-esque piano ballads (“Zowie,” “Aeronaut”) and crystalline Americana (“Processional,” “Amarinthe”)—a sound as strong as it is vulnerable.